• Sara Moinian

Untitled

By: Nicole Wasylak

Might there be a symphony in the tree?

A concert in the forest, where a conductor bears more legs than two?

I’ve heard it every night

A loud musical, echoing beyond the tenebrous trees

First, begins the crickets with their tambourines

Clashing

Once, twice, three times

Swelling with the heartbeat of the earth

Which refuses to finish when the sun awakens

And then, the drumbeat of the bullfrog

Slow

Slow

Slow

A cadence so low even all who are sleeping

wink an eye at their baritone call

And what would a concert be, of course

without the haunting melody of the loon, the cries of

A lover in their blues, a synchronistic call that

swells with the music of every other creature that

comes to life while we slumber

Little lanterns, oh how I see you glow

Something quiet, crooked, but moved

You float with an air no wing-ed creature may obtain

Searching, searching, for what, I do not know

You are a question mark in the sky

Stoic as the mountains yet fluid as the sea

I want to ask you, how is that so?

How can something be as black as it is white?

Yet there you lay, cradled in the arms of the sky

Proof that paradoxes can be found

In even the most queer of places

Oh, lanterns, how I envy you so

How I wish I could learn from you

For you have watched over me and many more

But I know in my heart that one day

I will be beside you

Dripping like honey, so sweet, neither solid nor liquid

But drowsy

Like my eyes

Drowsy

Like your light

And through the woods we’d frolic —

Those old souls, you and I

I’ve seen these trees, the infant leaves

In the past, it’s been much time

And by my side you walked —

Along hemlock tangled paths

Those eyes, I suppose, I recognize

I’ve loved them from my past

And the forest, she tells

She’s whispered it for quite some time

I’ve listened here, not to think it queer

That you were always mine


A version of this originally appeared in “Comfort” The Teller November 2019 Issue #8


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